Out of the Darkness
by Seka
Summary: In the midst of the war of good against evil Ginny finds herself face to face with the personification of evil himself: Draco Malfoy. Trapped in his grip she is forced to succumb to his orders, forced to live with him, and finally forced to see what reall
1. Introduction

Author Note: I'm really sketchy about this fic to be honest, it's my second big fanfiction and I wanted to do something completely different. What I don't want to concentrate on in this fic is too much of the details - spells, places you know... - I know they play a very important part but I want the story to overbear the details, you know? I want it to be less about magic and more about what it will be about. Please keep an open mind and hopefully enjoy.

_Introduction:_

She had promised herself that if it had ever happened to her, she would have killed herself.

She woke up that morning with a pang in the bottom of her gut, and she knew instantly that something was wrong. But she didn't know what. Her life was almost perfect. An irony it was, that in the time of the darkest hour when the battle between evil and good had come to its peak, things would be at their highest for her.

It had been many years since she was the Ginny she had been. Many years since she had sat in the Hogwarts Castle, studying and working, hating and loving. Even now, when she read the papers each day, the Harry Potter they spoke of was almost a dream to her. She remembered him clearly, his bright green eyes, contrasted with his jet black hair, his sharp, clear voice, his soft, loving touch. But it seemed in another life that she knew of them. She hadn't seen Harry in over half a decade. A short time in the wizarding world, but things can change in the smallest of moments.

When Harry had left her, sitting at Dumbledore's funeral, her hands in her lap, trying to be strong, she had vowed to herself that she would do everything to help him. Passionate she asked to join the Order, and she would not be refused. In the end, she made a bargain to take beginners' lessons, learning charms and strategies, theories and histories. She dreamt of one day fighting side by side with Harry, watching death eaters as they fell around them. And finally watching in awe as it was completed, as Harry became triumphant, when he would finally be ready to be with her, to kiss her and hold her. When she knew that nothing else mattered than him and her. A child's dream it was. And a child she was then.

But Ginny was not a fighter. Fiery and mischievous as she was, bold and crass as she could be, she could not bear to look into the eyes of another human being and take their soul. At the age of 18, when she would have officially joined the Order, when she could finally do her part to help Harry, she left. She packed her bags and moved out of the burrow. It shocked many, to say the least. But Ginny had felt it coming a long time before.

She felt her support for the Order- her support for the war in general - fade when a death eater, only 15 had been brought into the headquarters. Limp with lack of life, and cold with the fill of death. His body was levitated single handed by Tonks onto a nearby table.

"We found him kneeling in the corner with his hood on. He had been crying. I tried creeping over to help, but he moved so quickly it scared me, I thought he would try a fast-one so I… I did the killing curse… I had to… It might have been him or me."

And it was him.

"Of course Tonks, it wasn't your fault. Anyone would have done the same," Ron comforted.

But Ginny didn't believe that. She blamed Tonks, she blamed the Order, and she blamed the dark-side. She blamed the world. It made her angry to live in a world where it was them or the dark-side, where they were both living with hate for each other, where they both could not see that the end of the war would only come if they accepted their differences and lived with each other.

The next day she packed her bags. She could not be apart of something she hated. Because she knew when she joined the order, she would be the one coming home with bodies, living in fear of anyone in a dark hood. She would be the one hating her.

It had been a hard move to live away from the Order. She had known it all her life; she grew up with them around her, eating with her, living with her. They were her aunts and uncles, her family friends, her classmates. And without them, she had nothing. It was like starting anew, going to a completely different country, and living with people with completely different customs. In truth, Ginny only moved to London, not a far distance from her family home, and still a world away. She lived among the muggles. She found a job with a catering company, putting all she had learnt from her mother into practice, and pretty soon she had gone from a common-class worker, to a supervisor, an assistant manager, and finally a manager. She loved her job, she had the freedom of hours, a feeling of importance, her own spacious apartment, and more money than she needed to get by. Yes, her life was almost perfect. But the frequent letters from her mother let her know that not everyone's was the same. The war was on a head with hundreds dying everyday. She was told stories of traitors, tortures, missing persons, missing friends…

Even in the muggle world the papers held stories of missing people, mysteriously vanishing without a trace, and to the people around her it was nothing more than a lost child, or a shady drug deal, but Ginny saw it as it really was, wizards trying to escape you-know-who tracked down and punished, used as tools of revenge and ransom. She knew she was no safer in here than she was back home. But at least she felt less connected, at least she didn't have to see the bodies, to hear the screams in the middle of the night, or to look up and see the dark shadow of the dark mark. Still, Ginny swore to herself that if it ever happened to her, she would kill herself rather than be taken in by the dark side.

When she got up that morning with a pang in her gut she knew instantly that something horrible would happen. And she knew almost a second later that it would happen to her. Her apartment seemed suffocating. There seemed to be a thousand shadows moving on the wall, a million voices whispering over her shoulder, and many times she swore she felt a breath on her neck. Her hands were jittery and she almost spilled her cup of hot coffee. Her mind was in a thousand different places and her sweat glands were working overdrive. Her eyes were neurotic, turning this way and that, up and down, left and right. Panicked she left her apartment, the beating of her heart pounding against the thin wall of her chest, her hands clasped at her side, her strides long and swift. She didn't know where she was going, and she didn't know why she was going. But that didn't seem to matter to her. It was late at night when she ended up in a neighbourhood park, all alone. It was the only place she felt calm all day. And she imagined in the dark that she could see the children playing on the swings and the parents cuddling their babies, and it made her happy. How ironic it was that the one place she had felt safest all day was the one place she was in most danger.

It didn't take a moment for it to happen, for her to feel the grasp of a male hand on her waist, pulling her off the bench she was sitting on and into a standing position, to feel a hand pressed hard on her mouth almost cutting off her air supply.

She fought long a hard, to scream, she kicked and struggled. And in the end she only managed to fight his hood off.

She promised herself if it ever happened to her she would kill herself. And yet, as she fought for dear life, she noticed the blonde hair, the pale skin and the grey eyes looking down at her in shock, the only thing she could think to do was whisper, "Malfoy?"


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

How many hours later it was, she didn't know. She got up reluctantly and for a moment thought she was in her warm bed at her apartment with the fire crackling. But that was only for a moment, because almost as soon as she thought it, she felt the coldness of the floor below her, and the aching of her ankles and wrists, all bound to by metal chains, and she realised that the cackling of the fire was nothing more than the scuttling of rats on the stone floor. Ginny was being held prisoner.

She moved a leg, trying to slip it out of its shackle. She twisted it, this way and that, always almost getting there but never quite slipping out. She tried harder, feeling the metal cutting into her foot. She bit her lip to hold back the pain. It was no use. She pulled at the chains holding her arms to the wall, so that her muscles ached from strain. She pulled with all her might, but nothing helped. And that was when the shock and fear of it all hit her all at once, she was being held _prisoner_. And at once she began to scream. It wasn't one of those high pitched screams, or the short screams of shock. It was a raw, animal scream of terror. She screamed until she almost went hoarse. And then there was a sound behind the door, a moment later it noisily opened. And Draco Malfoy entered forcefully behind it. His tall masculine frame darted inside, dressed in loose black trousers, and a buttoned-down white shirt that seemed to be put on in haste, leaving all except two middle buttons undone. His hair was thrown messily about, and his skin was so clean and milky it seemed to glow.

"Fuck all! Stop screaming, you were supposed to be asleep till another hour at least."

The informality he approached her with shocked her into silence. This was not how kidnappers acted, he had to be cool and calm, with an evil sneer, beating her into silence. He approached her with the same childhood annoyance he had back at Hogwarts.

"Untie me," she demanded.

He looked at her amused, "You're not tied."

She sighed in frustration, "Malfoy, let me go."

Slowly he inched towards her. Instinctively she crouched inwards, into the foetal position, unaware of what Malfoy would do.

He laughed, "Afraid of me, are you?"

"You sick fuck," she seethed through gritted teeth. "_Let. Me. Go._"

"Or what?"

"Or, I will _personally_ tear your eyes out."

"With those chains holding your arms and legs?"

The anger building within her had flooded, taken over her terror, and before she knew it she was kicking and screaming "FUCK YOU MALFOY! FUCK YOU!" the chains holding her back clattering noisily around her.

Draco held his hands up in surrender, "Easy Weasley, easy. I'll let you go."

She looked at him in defiance, her red curls covering most of her eyes. She stood still, her chest rising and falling as she breathed. And one by one, Draco took her chains off. It would have been the perfect opportunity for her to run, and then to sneak out unnoticed out of wherever it was she was being held. But instead she fell, weak from the energy it took to fight and yell, and sore from the muscle strain she had from being held by the chains.

"Happy?" he whispered to her.

She stayed quiet for a moment and then to Draco's surprise, began sobbing uncontrollably, shaking violently as she cried and cried.

"Stop," He ordered. But she only cried harder. He waited, hoping that she would stop eventually, but she didn't. And then he sighed in frustration and with one quick movement scooped her off the ground and into his arms.

"What are you doing?" She asked him.

"I don't have to answer your questions," he replied coldly as he carried her out of the room.

She seemed to accept that as his answer, being too tired to question, and resumed her sobbing.

Breathing out his annoyance he finally gave in, "I'm taking you to see the Dark Lord."

It took a second for the words to register and when they did they paralysed her with shock, "The Dark Lord?"

"Yes, the Dark Lord," he was not even slightly out of breath from carrying her all the way.

Her voice was small and high-pitched when she asked, "Why?"

"Because while you are here, you are his and he likes to know what is his."

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, "Where am I?"

Draco's only response was to adjust her in his arms and continue walking at a quickened space.

"Answer me." She demanded.

Immediately he put her down, she wavered slightly on her feet. "Look while you're here you take orders from _me_. I don't have to answer your demands, and neither does anyone else. And even if we weren't here, I would never answer to a Weasley."

"See, that's your problem-," she began, but then her knees weakened beneath her and she fell.

Draco caught her in one swift movement, "No. My problem right now is you."

XX

They didn't talk the rest of the way, and Ginny was glad for the silence, as no doubt was Draco. Sometime in between the ten minute walk from her cell she dozed off, unaware for a moment of where she was, or what danger she could potentially be in. She realised exactly how much that could be when she heard a shrill, cold voice call out 'Bring her here.'

Immediately she opened her eyes. She needn't ask any questions. She knew exactly who _her_ was referring to, and she knew exactly who – or rather what – was doing the referring. Struck with terror her fists clutched at Draco's shirt. Her eyes opened wide from fear.

Malfoy looked down at her and she wished that somehow, if someone out there was at all looking over her, if there was any hope for humanity he would take pity on her, he would let her go. But of course there was no one looking over her, and she knew almost all her life that there was no hope for humanity as long as humans existed. So she was hardly surprised when Draco smiled at her, his smug smile, and said 'With pleasure My Lord.'

"You bastard," she threw at him under her breath. The only sign he had heard it was a widening of the smile he held. "You sick prick. Fucker. You bloody-"

"Is she being resistant, Draco?" Voldermort called as she neared him.

He looked at her once more, a mischievous gleam in his eye, "Very, My Lord. She vows her life to the good side. She – She swears by her love to Harry Potter."

Her brain was flooded with the rush of blood, and she felt almost sure that this was the end of her life. This was where she would take her last breath. All because of a Malfoy.

"Let me see her," Voldermort called.

And finally, she came face to face to what Voldermort was. His skin held a hideous rusty colour, and it was severely wrinkled. His eyes were red slits; his hair on his head was sparse and dry. He looked almost helpless, sitting in his big chair, resembling a throne. He extended one long bony finger and traced the hem at the cleavage of Ginny's white dress, soaked with sweat and dirt. She felt the coldness as his skin touched hers, the goose bumps spreading in every direction. Still she kept still, afraid that any sudden movement she made would trigger an attack, like that of a snake.

"A muggle lover, this one?"

"Yes sir… _living_ with them even," Draco offered.

"Interesting. Interesting. And her and Harry Potter then?"

"Dated. In school, your greatness."

"As you have told me."

"Yes. What will you have me do with her? Throw her back in the cell? Throw her out? Kill…her?"

"No. No. Keep her healthy. She will be very good use to us. Very good indeed."

She could almost hear the disappointment in his voice when he replied, "As you wish My Lord."

XX

"My first step," Draco told her later when he brought in a plate overflowing with foods of all sorts, "is to keep you healthy. Let you eat. As much as you like. Not too much though, you don't want to get too fat for your reunion with Potter now, do you?"

He inched the plate towards her, but she turned away.

"Go ahead now, eat it."

"I'm not hungry," she muttered, but the loud sound emanating from her stomach said otherwise.

"Listen to that," he replied, "You're starving from the sounds of it."

She adjusted her sitting position on the hard, stone floor.

"Weasley, eat it."

"No."

"Eat it."

"_No._"

"Eat."

"Why should I? To help you do what you-know-who wants you to?"

"To help you survive."

"No, to help _you _survive. I'd rather not."

"So what? You're going to starve yourself?"

She chuckled quietly, "Malfoy, I'd rather _kill myself_ than help you in any sort of way."

"Suit yourself. Starve for all I care." But despite his uncaring tone, the uneasiness in his voice was all too clear.

Ginny smiled in satisfaction as she replied "With pleasure."

XX


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

It had been a week since she had eaten and Draco was now thoroughly annoyed. He suspected that she had been munching on whatever scraps she had found in the cell, though he tried not to think of it often as it was severely disturbing and upsetting to his own appetite.

The fact remained that for the first time _his_ destiny lay in the hands of a Weasley, just as his destiny also lay in the hands of Harry Potter. It seemed as if they had all come back to bite him in the ass, and he wondered in what way Longbottom and Lovegood would catch up to him to punish him in whatever sick and twisted fashion the universe would allow. Sometimes, Draco wondered if Dumbledore was punishing him from beyond the grave, moving the Children of the Order (as he liked to call them) as an expert chess player would move his pawns and placing them strategically at the turns and corners of Draco's life to catch him by surprise and stall his progress.

There was once a time when he respected Dumbledore, when he through the wizard to be an idol, someone who could do no wrong. But over his years of Hogwarts he had come to realise that Dumbledore, like every other wizard, only had one heart, but that his heart was dedicated wholly to Harry Potter. Everything he did was done in a way to protect the apple of his eye, his bosom buddy, The Boy Who Lived. To everyone else Dumbledore did not give a rat's ass. Did that make him better than anyone else? No. Not in Draco's book, in fact, that made the old bastard worse. Worse that all the death eaters put together. Worse than The Dark Lord himself, and especially worse than his father, who was rotting in Azkaban –thanks to the likes of Dumbledore and his followers. Draco was the only hope left for the family, the only one who could keep the Malfoy name alive. The only one who could bring glory back to the Malfoy's.

And he stood there holding a plate of gourmet food on a silver platter, serving it to the red-head girl, and watched her deny it. He could see her collar bone sticking out, the skin stretched tightly around it, and he could see the rise and fall of each rib in her chest, her fingers long and bony, her cheeks sunken and deep. She was starving herself because of the hatred she held for him. She would have rather died than help him in anyway. And why? What was his capital punishment? Protecting his own. Fighting for his family. Fighting for the man who did everything he could to provide for them and the woman who had showed him the most love he had ever experienced in life. They all hated him. But why was he so worse than any of them? Draco would have rather not had a war; he would have rather been sitting in his house minding his own. Did they think he liked killing? No more than them. Truth be told, it was either him or them. Given the chance they would all have loved to perform a crutatius on him. They would have all jumped for the chance to finish him off. And to make themselves feel better they invented their labels, the dark side against them – the light; the evil ones against them – the do-gooders. That's why he liked the dark side. They did not use any labels to hide the truth. They saw the war for what it was – a war, as sugar coated as the likes of the Order tried to make it that's what it would always be, a war. Not a war against good and evil but a war against wizard and wizard, a war consisting of people who just wanted to _survive_. Draco would have rather dealt with it that way, because that was exactly what he was trying to do – survive. Everyone was losing loved ones. Everyone experienced casualties. There are no good and evils in a war, there are simply people fighting for their survival and fighting for their tomorrow.

He placed the tray down noisily on the ground. His back hurt from the fighting he had been through last night. He and a select few were chosen to raid an ex-Minister of Magic's abode. As expected there was a struggle to get in, his house was guarded by magical traps, creatures of all sorts, hidden weapons, and bodyguards employed by the government. People were beginning to be more and more careful in these hard times and that made his job even harder and less enjoyable. He came back from his task successful – the Minister had been murdered and his pensive stolen for the delights of the Dark Lord. But Draco hadn't come out there with injury, his pale skin was spotted with black and blue spots now, a few gnashes on his elbows and knees had been repaired by Snape, he had twisted his ankle fighting an aggressive troll, and suffered a black eye from the Minister himself who instead of using his wand for magic, had apparently been trained to use it as some kind of poking stick.

Needless to say, Draco was not in the mood to coax the Weasley into eating only to have her spit at his feet and insult him with every crude and hurtful statement she could think of. So when she stared at the food hard and long for what seemed for an eternity, and stared at him for what seemed an even longer time, he sighed in annoyance, picked up the platter and walked himself to the door.

"Wait…" she called out. Her voice was feeble and almost non-existent, her throat sounded dry and scratchy.

He turned around and looked at her tiredly, "Yes, Weasley?"

"You didn't try to talk me into eating. Don't you realise if I die you're in big trouble?"

"After having you rub that little fact to me all week? I think you made it quite clear. But if you wanted the food you would have eaten the food. Now I am not in the mood to play your servant today if you have not noticed, I will see you tomorrow where I may just be in a good enough mood to ask you if you want a drink."

"Malfoy," she called out to him.

"Yes. Weasley." He sneered.

"I-I'm hungry."

He raised an eyebrow in surprise, "Is that you admitting your hunger I just heard?"

"I want something to eat," she continued, "a-and drink."

He placed the food at her feet and watched her practically leap towards it, eating it in a fast and almost primitive motion. "What made you change your mind?"

She looked up at him, her mouth filled with unchewed food and Draco thought he had never seen anything so common in his life. She opened her mouth to speak but he silenced her raising his hand as a signal, "Never mind. I'll let you eat. I will be back later to collect your tray. Maybe we can clean you up today. You only haven't had a shower in… what's it been? Six days or so?"

XX

Draco almost ran to The Dark Lord's lair, eager to tell him of Ginny's improvement. All week he had been called regularly to give a report and all week he had to think up new ways to make the fact that he was making no progress look like good news: 'she hasn't eaten anything yet My Lord, but I think I know why that is. I think she likes chicken more than beef… I remember it from school' – Lie, 'She hasn't touched a drop sir, but when I brought it to her today I could see her look at it with longing, she's almost ready to crack' – Lie, 'Oh I expect she will have some tomorrow, I promised to bring her whatever she likes, I think an assortment of dishes will do the trick' – Lie. Voldemort was no fool; he knew Draco had no idea how to deal with the Weasley,

"You fail this one Draco, and there will be some serious repercussions. She is our key plan to defeating Potter. Do not fail as your father did."

Finally Draco had something positive to report. He stood eagerly in front of Voldemort's frail figure and said in a booming masculine voice, "My Lord, I am happy to report that the Weasley has finally eaten. She is making progress."

There was a long silence, and for a moment he was unsure of whether The Dark Lord had even heard him. Then he heard the wheezing of Voldemort's intake of breath, signalling that he was about to speak. "Is that all?"

"My Lord?" Draco asked confused.

"Is that all you have to report?"

"Sir… this is a big improvement for her. It's-It's miraculous considering her situation, locked up in a cell all day-"

"What would be a miraculous situation is if she was up and about, and being pampered by our people so she can look her best for her debut with Potter."

"My Lord-"

"We don't have time to waste Draco. So what if she has eaten! Of course she's eaten! She wants to survive does she not?"

Draco stood rigid. _No_, she did not want to survive up till now. She had seemed quite happy to sacrifice her life so that he would suffer.

"The point is Draco what will you do now! What will you do now that she's eaten? Take an initiative. Put your best foot forward and continue the plan."

"What do you want me to do My Lord?"

Voldemort seemed thoroughly annoyed. "Well," he began, "For starters, does she have any clothes to wear?"

"No sir."

"Has she had a bath?"

"No sir."

"Has she been out of her cell to get proper exercise?"

"No sir."

"Then get on it Draco."

"Right away My Lord," he bowed slowly and turned to exit the room.

"And Draco?" the Dark Lord called after him.

Draco stopped dead in his tracks; he could feel his left arm burning up, a red hot heat emanating from the dark mark all the way down to his fingers. "Yes My Lord?" he fought to keep the steadiness in his voice.

"Do not fail me as your father did."

"No My Lord, I will not fail you."

XX

Shopping in these times had become hard and troublesome for the dark side. There were ministry scouts all around monitoring the movements in Diagon Alley, raiding shops for dark artefacts, and stopping wizards on the street to verify their identity. It was not rare for a wizard to be arrested simply for forgetting his I.D. There was even a new law against being idle on the streets as that evoked suspicion and caused uneasiness.

It was for that reason that when Draco headed out to buy the Weasley new clothes as the Dark Lord instructed, he did so with an invisibility cloak in hand, and an appointment with a friend of the Dark Lord who also happened to be an up and coming designer for Witches.

As he slipped on the invisibility cloak before apparating into Diagon Alley, Draco chuckled at the ignorance of his youth. For years he wondered how Harry Potter managed to get away with sneaking out of the Hogwarts Castle into Hogsmeade, or managed to hear things he should not have been around to hear. It was only in his third year of joining the Dark Side, when he had become one of Voldemort's most trusted and eager to please that he was introduced to the Invisibility Cloak. There were not many left in the Wizarding World. In fact, there were so few of them that the Ministry of Magic almost ignored the possibility of any dark wizard owning them. All the owner had to do was to slip it on and he was invisible to the naked eye; able to walk side by side with other wizards and not be seen. It proved what he always knew about Potter – The Boy Who Lived was no miraculous child, no skilled wizard, he was just a lucky fool with an invisibility cloak. And as Draco entered _Hugo Orfice's Robes and Wear for Ladies_ sneaking in behind a fat old witch, he wondered just how well Potter would do in a fight against him now, when they were equipped with exactly the same tools.

Draco walked into the back room where he was told Orfice himself would be waiting to tend to him. Orfice was an old death eater, one of Voldemort's most trusted before the day he fell from power. Then Orfice, like the others, fled from the Dark Lord's side and denied his name. The Old Wizard was terrified upon Voldemort's return, but he was one of the lucky ones. Voldemort realised the importance of having a contact in the outside world, one no one suspected to be a death eater. A little old man like Orfice interested in fashion design was the least of the Ministry's worries. And as Orfice greeted Draco with a regal wave and a cheery 'Good to see you darling," Draco noted that it helped that he was a little bit on the puff side. So Voldemort spared Orfice's life. But not out of charity. Orfice was allowed to live if he promised to help the dark Lord in any way he could, with information, and to provide the Death Eaters, like many other merchants in Diagon Alley, with goods.

"I saw your mother this morning," Orfice informed Draco, "What a star she is! Oh I _adore_ that woman. She is simply stunning! And when she tried on three of my newest collection I almost fainted! I said to her 'Narcissa, if you don't buy them right now I will simply _die_!' They looked like they were made _for_ her! But there is nothing that woman can put on that doesn't do her justice. Oh I envy her, those legs-"

"Orfice," Draco interrupted. He did not come here for a chat; this was a job to him, not a leisurely shopping trip. "I came to purchase some attire. For a girl."

"Well of course!" Orfice replied. "I hardly think you would come here for yourself. Although one time, I did try on that silk button-up shirt right there, not the yellow one that would look absolutely _ghastly_ on me – no, the red one. I wore it with these khaki trousers I own, oh it looked marvellous!" Noting the look of disgust on Draco's face he stopped himself. "Right well, a girl you say? What size is she?"

Draco looked as if it was the most ridiculous question he had ever been asked, "How am I suppose to know what size she is!"

"Well is she skinny? Short, tall, a little on the chubby side?" Orfice offered.

"Well, she hasn't eaten in a week so you figure it out."

"Well that's hardly uncommon these days if you ask me. These young girls seem to go _months_ without eating. You should hear them talking around here, 'Oh I ate a whole sandwich today, I need to go on a diet, look at how fat I've gotten!' And then they tug on nothing but skin! Skin and bone is all they are! I say to them I make my fashion for women of all sizes, but all my size 16's stay on the shelf for months! It's more 0's they want. One said to me, 'Orfice have you got anything smaller than XS?' I said 'darling I make clothes for women not walking sticks!' But it's the media if you ask me –"

"Skinny, she's skinny Orfice," Draco barked, his patience wearing thin.

"Ah well I would have guessed. And her height?"

Draco thought for a bit. How tall was Ginny? He hardly ever paid notice to her. And so far she had been sitting on the ground willing herself to die. He remembered the first day he visited her in the cell when she was screaming and kicking standing up. How tall was she then? "A little about here," he said indicating his shoulder area.

"Oh she sounds fantastic! Being a woman is all about being petite now-a-days. It's a pity you never see any 5'5 models. I tell you the 6 foot ones look good on the catwalk but I have seen them in person and let me tell you-"

"The clothes Orfice, if you would be so kind."

"Yes, yes of course. Give me one second."

He left with 2 dresses, three trousers, four skirts and seven new tops. He hardly took a look at them and just nodded whenever Orfice sad 'oh that is fantastic you _must_ take this one!' He suspected they were all the expensive ones, and he left more than enough gold for the old man and urged him to keep the change. He could not take anymore darling's or fantastic's for the day. He slipped his cloak on and stepped out of the shop.

He entered the Leaky Cauldron to get himself a congratulatory drink on having survived that ordeal (Voldemort was good with the bartender too) when he heard a familiar voice in the back. He turned (still disguised by his invisibility cloak) to see the likes of Ron Weasley, along with his brothers, his mother and father. It seemed like a family reunion. They all bowed down over a table, talking quietly. Draco inched towards them till he could almost make out what they were saying.

"When last did you hear from her Mum?" Ron asked.

"I sent her a letter last Thursday but I didn't get a reply. She's usually quite quick with replying to my letters. She knows how much I worry."

"I tried calling her from one of those muggle things – the phone and what not, it just kept ringing, I left her a message to call me back urgently, she hasn't yet," Fred offered.

"Now everyone calm down, she might have gone on holiday. You know how hard she's been working recently."

"But Arthur, if she had gone on holiday surely she would have told us."

"Exactly dad," Ron added, "She's pretty responsible."

"Well nothing has been reported, I've been checking the muggle papers. If she's disappeared she hasn't been noticed to be missing yet."

"She's the manager isn't she?" George said, "She's allowed loads of holidays whenever she feels like. No one would bother to check on her."

"I'll ring one of her friends first thing in the morning and ask her to pass by her flat. Oh I'm so worried!"

Draco smirked as he listened to the conversation of the Weasley's. Finally it was hitting home, all the pain Arthur Weasley had caused him and his family was finally coming back to him. He did not have time to gloat for long through because a fat old wizard entered the shop and a strong breeze accompanied him, blowing his cloak with it, and it brushed against Ron's skin before Draco tugged it tighter to him.

Ron glanced around curiously about him and whispered softly into the air, "Harry?"

_No Weasley_, Draco thought, _quite the opposite._ As much as he would have enjoyed to have stayed and listen he took that as his cue to leave. Quickly he exited the Cauldron and made his way back.

XX


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

He looked in at her through the window of her cell, she sat there motionless staring at the stone floor. Draco wondered how anyone could be so lifeless; she seemed not to be conscious of where she was or what she was doing. It was like she just… was.

"Right," he announced upon his entrance, "I brought you something."

"I'm not hungry," she announced without bothering to raise her head to him.

"It's not food."

She sighed and looked up. At first her face was motionless, and then her expression changed to one of suspicion, "Why did you bring me this?"

"Why do I bring you anything?" he asked annoyed. "I was told to."

"You can take it back."

"I will not. Look at you, you're filthy. You've been in those rags for more than a week; you should jump at the opportunity to get out of them!"

"Why? What shall I get cleaned up for?"

"How about… hygiene?"

"A lot of good it will do me surrounded by rats like you."

"Weasley, I have no time to argue, now come on, we'll get you cleaned up and you can put on the pretty dress, right?"

"I said I don't want it. Now be a good little servant like you are, and run along and take it back."

"Look you bastard," Draco had lost his cool and forced Ginny into the wall where he had her pinned by the arms up against the wall, "I serve _no one_. Especially not you."

She gasped in surprise and her breathing increased with fear, but she quickly gained her composure enough to bite back with her words, "Oh yes I forgot, how great you are, running around doing errands for You-Know-Who. He even has you buying dresses now."

"You don't know what you're talking about." He held her still, tightly by the arms.

"I know what I'm talking about. I know _exactly_ what I'm talking about."

"I'm no more a servant to him than your parents are to the Order. I do my duty just like them. No one's forcing me."

"I'm sure _he_ asked you kindly to do this! I wouldn't bet my life on it! And don't you _dare_ talk about my parents _or _the Order! They're doing what they can to do good on this earth!"

"That's rich! Do good how? By killing other wizards? They do exactly the same as us."

"No," she seethed, her arms turning red from the pressure, "By getting rid of scum like _you_."

Draco flung her aside propelling her to the other end of the room where she collapsed on her knees. He glared at her, the anger building within him, "It wasn't a question Weasley. Now, we're going to get you cleaned up, and then you _will_ wear the dress."

XX

"In the bath," he commanded.

"No."

"_In. the. Bath. Now."_

"No."

"Why on earth would _anyone_ refuse to bathe?"

"Anything you ask me to do, Malfoy, can never lead to anything good. I would rather die diseased than do anything you say to me."

"Don't push me Weasley. In the bath I say."

"What will you do? My welfare is more important to you than it is to me. Frankly I have nothing to live for in this place, death seems like a pretty good option to me."

"You think you hate me enough to sacrifice your life for it? Well I have news for you: I hate you ten times more than you could _ever_ hate me. Do you think I care if you die? The Dark Lord will be angry, yes, but he will get over it. I would be satisfied spending my life in Azkaban knowing you've gotten what you deserve. You want to punish yourself because of me? Then go right ahead love. I will simply sit back and enjoy. There's nothing I would like to watch better."

She looked at him, her eyes filled with hate and dissatisfaction and slowly, and regrettably, she began to undress.

Then she stopped.

"What _is_ the matter?" Draco asked, aggravated.

"I want my privacy."

"Oh yes ma'am, would you like me to bring in some bath beads as well? Perhaps I can scatter a few rose petals for your viewing pleasure. What the fuck do you think this is Weasley? A hotel? You are a prisoner here."

"I have rights!"

"Who told you that? You have _no_ rights. I've been going easy on you because I don't have the time or the energy to punish you 24/7. Don't let that fool you; I didn't bring you here for spa treatment. Now _get in the bath_."

She stood in defiance, unwilling to move.

He sighed. "Weasley, look. I have to keep an eye on you at all times, to make sure you don't escape. I don't enjoy being in your company all day, I do this because I have to. I won't leave you alone and just accept that. I will sit right here, and wait for you to get in." Draco folded his arms and sat by a nearby chair waiting.

He waited for half an hour. Still she stood there looking at him with arrogance. He could take no more. He got up, picked up her frail and slender body and dumped her, clothes and all, into the warm bath. She yelped in shock as landed clumsily with water splashing all around her.

"One way or another you are taking a bath today. Now, do you really want me to do it for you?" He held the bath sponge in his hand threateningly. With fright in her eyes Ginny meekly took the sponge from his hand. "Good," he encouraged, "I will be sitting right over there," he pointed to the chair he had previously occupied. "And make sure you get every spot. You're filthy."

He looked at her as she sat in the bath and shook his head. She was so skinny from having not eaten all week, her arms were thin enough for his hands to grasp completely, and her shoulder blades looked as if they could cut through glass. But despite the scrawniness he could note the shapeliness of her body. She had a figure eight. Her breasts, though not large, were enough, and her waist in addition to being tiny was long and slender, her legs were not model attributes, in fact they were rather on the stumpy side, but he liked the curve of her hips when she stood to pass the sponge down her abdomen, and he liked that they were a little bit on the short side. But Draco liked women on a whole. And as she moved the sponge up and down her body, up her legs, to her thigh, lightly stroking her abdomen, around her breast to her neck, he was filled with his primitive male instinct to grab her and take her right there and then. His eyes roamed her body and he wondered how she would be in bed. He had wondered the same thing about the fat lady entering Hugo Orfice's Store that morning (she had a huge set of breasts), but like then, he had to control himself as business was more important than pleasure.

Draco had a problem, he would admit, but at least he had his priorities straight. Business first, sex later.

XX

Orfice's one-sided conversation about his mother had reminded Draco just how long it had been since he had last seen her. With death eater raids in the night and secret missions during the day Draco hardly had time to even think of Narcissa much less visit her. But late that night when Ginny had finally gone to bed in her cell, he put on his cloak and decided to pay the woman a visit.

Since his father's sentence to Azkaban Narcissa had dispelled all the house help except for Julia, her personal companion, due to her paranoia that it was the help who betrayed Lucius. So when Draco knocked on the door, it took a full ten minutes for her to run all the way from her room in the manor to the door. As soon as she saw it was him she flung the door open and embraced him tightly, as if she couldn't believe it.

"Oh my son! I haven't seen you in so long! Come Draco. Come in. I prayed you hadn't forgotten your dear mother."

"I haven't mother. I wouldn't forget you."

"Have you left that awful place and come to stay with me? Say you have…"

Draco remembered why he hadn't been visiting this place often. Every time he visited his mother made it a point to ask him if he had left being a death eater yet, even though she knew full well Draco was dedicated to the Dark Side and that _no one_ left You-Know-Who after becoming a Death Eater.

"No mother, I haven't."

"Please Draco; I'm getting old, stay with me."

"Mother I will be home soon, as soon as this war is over."

"No, this war will take you! Like it took everyone else from me! Nothing good will come from it."

"Nothing good will come from me sitting idly at home either. I'm doing this for us mother: for you, me and father."

"We don't need you to do it."

"If I don't do it, who will? It will be worth it in the end you'll see. I will restore honour to our family, and father can walk out of Azkaban with his head held high. We will all be in glory."

She looked at him with hopelessness in her eyes. She knew there was no talking to him. His mind was made up; there was nothing she could say to change it. "Draco," she said stroking his hair, "I wish one day you could see that there are more important things to glory. That sometimes, it's okay to stand down from a fight, for the one you love."

He chuckled, "Mother, I love you and I love father. Let me do what's best."

XX


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

The human spirit is a marvel. Able to adjust to things beyond imagination it allows the survival of the humans even when things look most doomed for failure. Unlike many creatures humans were able to ensure their survival by adapting to whatever changes they were subjected to: Snow, heat, rain. They learned to swim, to swing from trees, to climb mountains. They discovered fire to keep them warm; they created machines to keep them cool. In all these situations they not only survived but became used to.

And so it came to pass that many weeks after Ginny's capture when she thought her life was over, she had spent almost three days without tear stains on her cheeks, she even found joy in small things, like the bird singing outside her window. She was thankful for her life.

"Morning," she called as Draco brought her breakfast. They did the same thing everyday: she woke up no longer aching from the stone floor (her skin had grown used to its hardness) and she spent her time alone thinking of her parents, and her brothers, revisiting as many memories as she could so as not to forget what they looked like, felt like or smelt like. It was not long until Draco entered (grumpy as usual) to bring her breakfast (usually some bread and eggs – no gourmet), and watched her eat. Then he would walk her to the bath where she would take her time to cleanse herself while he sat there, usually busy in his thoughts. After he would bring her back to her cell, and leave her there alone. She found ways to occupy herself, she collected splinters and bits and pieces from the ground and organised them in order of shape, colour, whichever grouping she could come up with. She could now identify the rats that ran buy every so often, and she gave them individual names. All in all, she was her own company, and she had to admit that she was starved for social conversation. A few times when Draco entered she was tempted to make conversation, ask him where he had been, what he was going to do, what was for lunch. But he made it clear that everything he did for her was because he was made to do it, and that he would not spend any more time then was necessary with her. Still, she always greeted him each day with a 'morning' and everyday he replied the same way – with a gruff.

"Breakfast," he said as he put the platter of, of course, bread and eggs down at her feet. She sat comfortably so she could eat and when she was done she got up and he led her, grasping her arm tightly, to the bath.

Routinely, Ginny undressed and Draco made himself comfortable on his usual chair. He had gotten into the habit of bringing with him a book, usually one about improving battle skills or spells.

"You know," she began as she doused her naked body with water, "You never talk." She did not know what possessed her to initiate conversation. She supposed it was the light mood she had that day, from knowing that she had made it thus far.

Draco was annoyed. "Less chat, more bathing," was all he replied.

"You were never so quiet in Hogwarts."

"I never talked to you in Hogwarts."

"You did. It was never pleasant, but you talked."

"Thank you for the flashback. Now, hurry up, I have things to do today."

"I can tell you what happened after you left. Let's see, well Mc-"

"I _know_ what happened after I left thank you very much."

"Really? I didn't think anyone would keep in contact with you."

Draco was silent for a moment. The truth was, _no one_ kept in contact with him after Hogwarts. Not even Pansy, Crabbe _or_ Goyle. No one bothered to send him a letter. No one wanted to know him after-

"I would think that no one would want to know you after what you did."

"You're pushing my buttons Weasley."

But she couldn't help it. She knew very well that while she was here her life basically lay in his hands but she _hated_ him for what he had done, she had started herself on the topic and she couldn't stop her aggression.

"I mean _killing_ Dumbledore."

"Shut up."

She turned around and faced him and it was almost like he was looking at hatred itself, the anger and pain in her face was as plain as day. "_Killing_ the man who practically brought you up-"

"SHUT UP."

"Watching Dumbledore, someone we all looked up to, watching him plead for his life-"

He walked up to her in haste, he was so close now that her wet body touched his as she breathed, leaving spots where the water had soaked in, "SHUT UP," he warned dangerously.

"Seeing him on his knees too weak to fight, looking into his eyes and then you ready to kill him-"

"SHUT UP!" he screamed, and before he could stop himself he slapped her with such a force she collapsed into the bath.

Ginny was in so much anger she hardly even felt his blow, she was so angry that instead of crying she laughed, "You thought it made you a man? You thought it brought you honour? You asshole," she was almost hysterical with laughter, "You're just like Lucius. A coward. That's what you are. Picking on a weak old man? Well done you _coward_. You _bloody coward._"

It was Draco's turn to laugh now; it was a hurt laugh just like Ginny's, filled with pain, "I'm the _coward_? You may think what you want of me Ginny, you may hate me as much as you like but at least _I_ never ran away from the truth, at least _I_ didn't pretend like it wasn't happening, at least _I_ didn't desert _my_ family in their time of need, when they needed my help and protection. Hate me as much as you like. You must hate yourself ten times more."

"YOU DEMON," she sprang towards him in rage and clawed at his clothes and skin. He fought to keep her off him but she was determined. Finally he managed to push her off and she collapsed, once again, into the bath.

"ENOUGH," he yelled, breathless. "Bath time is over. Put your clothes on, let's go."

For once, Ginny didn't argue. Quietly she put her clothes on and quietly she was taken back to her cell. There were no more good days after that. Everyday was like hell to her. And everyday she thought of how she had deserted her family. Everyday she thought of what an awful person she was.

XX

Early one morning Draco entered her cell, but instead of bringing her breakfast he held in his hand the Daily Prophet. Ginny had not set eyes on it for what seemed like an eternity. Curiosity filled within her. But she did not speak. She hadn't spoken to him since that day.

"You might want to see this," he said. He waited for a response and when he did not get one he threw it at her feet. She looked up at him before picking it up to read.

It was an article about her and the title read: Youngest Weasley Missing – Latest Death Eater Deed? Below was a photo of her family, her mother was in tears, gripping her father's shirt – he looked worried and he seemed to have aged a 20 years from the last time she had seen him. Ron, Fred, George and Bill stood on either side of her parents, each with a worried and saddened look on his face.

She looked up from the paper, "About… me?" Those were the only words she could force out of her mouth. Draco nodded. She looked down again at her parents face. Her family had been through so much, now they looked the worst she had ever seen them, worried sick over her. While she was stuck here, locked in a cell, unable to tell them she was even alive all because Malfoy – all because of Malfoy. Anger rose within her, once again all directed a Draco. "I bet this made your day," she seethed.

"Well…" he mused brushing his clothes off, "I can't exactly say I was saddened by it."

Tears swelled up in her eyes, the pain she felt at seeing her family worried sick over her was too much to bear, "Please," she begged her voice hardly audible, "Please let me go."

Draco looked at her for a moment and then started laughing. "Sorry Weasley no can do."

She bent her neck back knocking her head on the wall. Closing her eyes she tried to wish herself out of captivation, back to her flat in London where she could call her parents and tell them she was safe, that she would be home with them tomorrow and would never leave again. The tears spilled over down her cheeks, her face burned. Draco was right, she was selfish when she ran away from the Order, she only thought about herself, how _she_ couldn't deal. And because of her selfishness she had caused more pain to her family than being in the Order had caused to her.

"Don't flatter yourself," Draco threw at her as he watched her on sitting on the floor, in a stream of silent tears.

"What?" she asked softly, the confusion in her voice was genuine.

"You have no right to feel sorry for yourself. Welcome back to the wizarding world Weasley. Here, everyone suffers. Your family's no different."

She began to sob, "You have no idea what you're talking about," she said angrily to him in between sobs.

"Don't I? I haven't seen _my_ father in 6 years, _my_ mother worries every night whether or not I'm still alive."

"It's different," she ran her fingers through her hair, and her face was wet with tears and perspiration, "You chose to be here-"

"No, I _have_ to be here. Until this war is over _none_ of us are free. This is how we all feel everyday." At that he left the cell, leaving Ginny to cry to herself, over a copy of the Daily Prophet.

XX


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

"Progress Report," Voldemort announced as Draco entered the living room for his regular meeting with the Dark Lord.

"Yes My Lord. She's eating regularly-"

"We've been through that."

"A-and as a result her figure is greatly improved, she is shapely your greatness, I think Harry Potter will like it."

"Obviously. What else?"

"She-"

"There is nothing else?"

"She was making good progress sir, but I'm afraid the article about her in the Daily Prophet has set her back a little. She's terribly saddened-"

"What did you say to her when you gave it?"

"Pardon?"

"When you gave her the newspaper Draco, what did you say?"

"I said erm… 'you might want to read this' I think."

"And then?"

"I believe that was it My Lord."

"You fool," Voldermort forcefully said, "That was your chance. That was your chance to comfort her, to motivate her to get better. Why didn't you do it?"

"I-I don't exactly understand, sir."

"Just like your father, you can achieve nothing on your own. You Malfoy's you are like sheep, you need to be guided all the time, one simple task you cannot do on your own. I laid it out for you, I set the track down, I gave you the equipment and still you went in the wrong direction. Tell me Draco, how is this meant to help your case?"

"I'm sorry sir."

"Let me make this clear to you Draco. She will _never_ concede to helping us if she is not happy here. How can we keep her alive if all she wants to do is die?"

"But sir, we have her; we don't need to be nice to her."

"BUT NOTHING. Listen here, I want her looking beautiful and youthful, same as she was when Harry Potter first saw her. I want her to remind him of what he lost, to distract him from how much he loathes me. I WANT YOU TO MAKE SURE IT HAPPENS."

"Yes sir," Draco replied tightly.

"Now what will you do?"

"I'll work on it."

"_Don't_ work on it Draco, do it. Get it done."

"Yes My Lord."

"Now go."

"Yes My Lord."

XX

Draco cursed himself as he entered Ginny's cell and saw her sitting there arranging some stray twigs on the floor. He could not believe the Dark Lord had ordered him to be nice to a Weasley. He could not believe he had to bear her company much less pretend like he cared. And yet there he was standing in front of her waiting for _her_ to acknowledge _his_ presence.

She didn't.

He cleared his throat, "Listen, I know you're torn up about your family…" She didn't look up. "I-I know what you're going through." He sighed as if the mere utterance of this sentence took all the strength he stored within.

She lifted her eyes from the floor and looked at him. Still she said nothing.

"I know it's hard to believe but -"

"What do _you_ know about it?"

"What do I know about it? Weasley, in case you haven't noticed I've been living in this situation since I've left Hogwarts. I know it's not easy, and I know you're hurting but there's always a brighter side."

At this she chuckled, "Oh Draco Malfoy ever the optimist. Of course, the brighter side. What side is that? The side where I sit here day after the day knowing that my family is at home thinking of every possible thing that could have happened to me? The side where I worry that maybe the next time I read the papers it will be to announce that my father, my mother, my brothers, my friends are missing? The side that knows that the reason I am here is to help _him_ succeed, that the pain my parents are experiencing now will be nothing compared to the pain they will experience when he is finished with me?" Tears had started trickling down her cheeks now, "Forgive me, Malfoy, if I fail to see the bright side of the situation."

Draco ran his fingers through his blonde hair, "Is there anything I could do to make you feel better?"

This time she burst into all out laughter, "Cut the shit Malfoy. You must think I'm a right ass to fall for your act. He put you up to this didn't he? Tell me, what is it he wants with me? What is it that I could be so important for so as to help him win a fight against Harry?"

"It's not an act Weasley," he lied. "Listen, if there's something I can do just tell me. You're no good to anyone sitting here sulking day after day."

"You know what you can do? You can let me go, right now. That would make me happy. That would make me _very_ happy."

"I can't do that."

"Then you can't do anything to help."

"You must be lonely, maybe you need a companion."

"That won't make me happy."

"I'll stay with you-"

"That won't make me happy," she persisted.

"Instead of playing with twigs you can enjoy my company."

"I like my twigs."

"It's settled then, I will be with you from the moment you wake up to the moment you go to sleep, from the time the sun goes up to the time it goes down-"

"From the time you start my punishment to the moment I kill myself."

"Weasley, I will take care of you until you feel better."

She looked at him earnestly in the eye, "why are you doing this to yourself?'

Draco uttered the only words of truth he had spoken that day, "I have to."

XX

Draco had stayed true to his word. He had, in fact, stayed with Ginny from the moment she opened her eyes – the moment the sun went up. They sat in silence for the first two days with Ginny refusing to acknowledge his presence, hoping that if she ignored him long enough he would give up and go away. She was wrong, he seemed to relish the silence, and was always amused when he asked a question only to be greeted with silence. This angered Ginny even more and by the fourth day she had given up. If Draco had submitted himself to her company who was she to make it easier on him? If he asked a question she would gladly answer, knowing that deep inside it killed him to be talking to a Weasley. She had decided to kill him with kindness. Truer to his word still, Draco left as soon as Ginny's lids fluttered – as soon as the sun's last rays disappeared beneath the horizon. He spent no more time with Ginny than he had promised, no more time than he had to.

But in those hours that Draco had spent with her he had grown curious. How could someone miss their family so much that they become physically sick? What was it that made her so miserable here, where she was bathed in the finest bath salts, clothed with the most expensive clothes and (even though it was just recently) slept in a bed with the softest cottons and smoothest silks.

"Weasley," he called from across the room where he had been observing her.

She raised her head in response.

"Explain to me why you miss your family so much."

"What?" she asked confused.

"I don't understand you. You have everything you need here; you have food, clothes, and no responsibility. Anyone would be quite content to live here. In fact, there are people who probably wish to be whisked away from the problems of their daily life to be taken care of as you have been. So why are you such a miserable bitch all the time?"

"I wouldn't expect you to understand Malfoy, but some of us are loved at home and that's what I miss, the love of my family."

Draco folded his arms, "What do you mean you wouldn't expect me to understand?"

She looked at him in the kind of way that says 'isn't it obvious?'

"For your information, I received plenty of love from my parents."

She huffed.

"What? Surprising as it may be but the Malfoy's are a very loving family."

"Correct me if I'm wrong but your father didn't seem like he had love for anyone but money and your mother seemed too high on coke to feel a pin stuck through her arm much less emotion of any kind."

"My mother cared for me with all her heart," Draco tried to control the anger in his voice, "She was as loving and perfect a woman as any other - Even more considering our circumstances."

"And your father?"

The truth was Lucius Malfoy had been more of a dictator than a father to Draco. He was more concerned in training his son to follow in his footsteps, always correcting Draco's every move, never congratulating him or letting him know how proud he was. "What makes your family any better?" Draco returned instead.

"We might not have had a lot, but we had each other."

Draco chuckled, "That's about all you had."

"It might have been, but it was enough. It was more than enough. It was worth more than any Manor or fancy clothes of any sort."

Draco remained silent for a moment before asking with pure curiosity, "But didn't you ever wish that you weren't so poor, that you did have fancy clothes and could afford good food."

"Honestly? Yes, but not for me. For my parents maybe, so it would stress them out less, or for my brothers since they work so hard, but never for me. I would have done anything to make them happy. That's why I hate the fact that they don't know where I am, they must be worried sick, I hate not knowing."

"Then why did you leave?"

Ginny's voice was tense and angered but not without a guilty twinge, "I've told you already Malfoy, because I couldn't stand to be apart of this."

"So you don't care as much as you say you do," he adjusted himself more comfortably on the chair he sat lazily in.

"Pardon?" she sent him daggers with her eyes warning him not to go where they had gone many times before. Draco ignored them.

"Well, if you _really_ cared about your family and you _really_ hated not knowing then you wouldn't have left. You wouldn't have been able to stand being all the way in the muggle world while they suffered here."

"I told you, they sent me letters, every week."

"Letters that they chose what to write to you about. Your mother have a terminal illness and choose not to tell you, or your father could have been fired for ages and you wouldn't know, simply because they left it out of a letter."

"My parents wouldn't do that." But now Ginny worried that maybe they had, maybe her parents chose to protect her as they saw fit and only told her what they thought she could bear. Images of her mother lying on her bed at home sick and close to death writing her letters saying that everything was fine clouded Ginny's mind.

"Why? They want to protect you don't they? You're obviously not interested in what's happening here or you wouldn't have left."

"Some of us aren't evil like you Malfoy. Some of us can't sit here and watch members of our family get killed, and kill other people's loved ones. Some of us can't stand to be apart of this."

Smoothly Draco got up from his seat and brushed his dark brown trousers off, "Congratulations Ginny, everyone you know and love, even your dear Potter, is evil." And he left, for the first time since he made his promised, a couple hours before he was meant to.

XX


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

It was funny how a sentence that took two seconds to utter could haunt its listener for ages longer. Draco had left as soon as he had his word, but his word had not left as smoothly as him. Ginny was left with them, in her empty cell thinking of what he said.

_Congratulations Ginny, everyone you know and love, even your dear Potter, is evil._

He was right, how could she judge him for doing the same thing the people she loved and respected did? How could she look down on him when she had been such a coward? For the first time Ginny realised that she had abandoned her parents, her friends, her fellow wizards – she had left them all because _she_ thought she couldn't cope. Draco was right to hold such animosity towards her, she didn't deserve pity like she requested when she did nothing to help the future of the wizarding world.

She was woken up the next morning by Draco's gentle shaking. "Weasley," he whispered in her ear sending goose bumps down her neck, "Weasley get up." She opened her eyes to see his face inches above hers, observing her intently. He frowned forming creases on his forehead; his eyes glistened with worry, his lips turned down in unpleasantness. She had seen this look before, but never on Draco. It was a look of pity.

Frightened she moved quickly to the wall and hugged her knees to her chest. Was this it? Was this where he came to collect her, to take her to You-know-Who so she could be sacrificed? "What's wrong? What happened?"

Draco seemed to try to compose himself and took a moment to decide the right approach. "Calm down," he firmly said.

"What happened?"

"Calm down, Weasley."

"Please," she begged her voice a mere whisper, "Please Draco, tell me."

He diverted his eyes from her gaze and his took a deep breath.

"Are you going to – are you going to… kill me?"

"No," he looked as if he wanted to comfort her and for a moment he inched towards her before stopping himself. He cleared his throat, "No, it's nothing like that."

"Draco, please just tell me."

But she didn't know how hard it was, there was no way to _just_ tell her. He could tell that his news would almost cripple her with grief, that she would nearly go insane when she heard it. And it was his responsibility to hurt her in that way, it was his to figure out a way to deliver news that he knew would be nothing less of heartbreaking.

"It's your brother – Ron."

His sentence needed no completion, before he had even finished it Ginny had let out a wail of grief and though her hand instinctively went to her mouth to silence it she could not.

Draco knew that there was no turning back and taking a deep breath he finished his sentence, not able to look her in the eye, "He's dead."

She shook violently and could hardly breathe for crying. Draco could almost hear her heart breaking. She rocked back and forth engulfed by her grief. He held out a hand to comfort her, but she screamed "NO! WHO DID IT? WHO DID IT?"

Draco didn't reply, instead he pulled her forcefully towards him and despite her resistance held her in a comforting embrace. Eventually she calmed enough to accept, resting her head on his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt, her sobbing long and deep. Draco stroked her hair trying to think of something to say. _It's okay_ seemed insincere when they both knew that it wouldn't. _It will get better_ – how could he promise that when he wasn't sure it would get better even for him? Instead, he sat there in silence doing the best he could to comfort her while images of Ron from the previous night ran through his head. The Weasley's shock as he saw Draco's face as his hood fell in battle, his pleading eyes as he fell, and the look of terror as Draco stood above him muttering the crutatius curse. And lastly, his limp body, cold and lifeless lying on the stone cold hard floor.

XX

It took her almost an hour to fall asleep. Her wails had transformed to silent sobbing, her stomach jerking violently as she took sharp, deep intakes of breath. Still he held her until he could feel the gentle movement of her sleeping breath and he lay her gently on her bed. He looked at her, her face red from the heat of grief, wet with the aftermath of tears and for the first time Draco was ashamed. He was ashamed of what he had done to her, many a time had he killed in the name of the Dark Lord but never, never had he seen what effect he had on those who knew his victim. And when he held her while she shook violently he thought of what it would be to be in her shoes, what it would be like to find out that his mother had been killed by someone in the order, to know that he could not be there to see her face one last time to see her body, to know that he could do nothing about it but grieve and that all his pain and sobbing could not bring her back, to know that in her last moments when she probably wanted – no needed to see him - to let her know the things he never let her know, to say all the things he never had said, that he was nowhere to be found, and he was ashamed. Draco was ashamed of what he had done. Gently he touched her hair and muttered a quiet but earnest sorry before leaving. He had no choice that was the truth, but somehow that didn't give him any reassurance, in fact that made him feel even worse because he too, like her, was helpless.

He came back that night, under the Dark Lord's orders and his impulse, to watch over her that night as she slept, afraid that she might do something to harm herself. Frequently she awoke with a start from a dream but she said nothing, only gazing distantly into the air, deep in thought. Frequently she muttered his name in her sleep, 'Ron?' as if hoping that he would appear, in human or spirit form Draco did not know, but she would never get an answer.

Draco merely looked on, wishing he could comfort her in some way but knowing that he was on the opposite side to her, and knowing that tomorrow he would have to go out and kill more – maybe her distant cousins, maybe her friends, maybe old schoolmates – or be killed. He had made his choice years ago when he pledged his allegiance to the Dark Lord and there was no turning back. With every life he took he knew that he was hurting someone, but hurting strangers was easier when he knew he was protecting his family.

XX


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

Draco woke up with an aching back the next morning. But it was not his bruised and battered body that he was worried about but the girl lying still on the bed in front of him. Call it guilt, or common human empathy but Draco felt sorry for her. He couldn't imagine what it would be like if _he_ was the one trapped here knowing that his mother died and there was nothing he could do. Moreover, he couldn't imagine what it would be like having to live with the people who killed her. Draco imagined that he probably wouldn't cope, he would probably go mad or kill himself, either way he couldn't imagine living another day knowing that his family was in danger. And in that way, he understood her.

Slowly he got up and flexed his back. He walked idly round her cell, which he had done his best (or not) to transform into a room, before curiosity overcame him and he walked towards her sleeping frame to examine her. Her lashes were wet with tears which left trails down her cheeks. Her lips were swollen and her breathing was quick and shallow. It looked like there were a million things going on in her head and Draco wondered just what they could be. He wished someone else had killed Ron. It was not exactly the heart-felt regret or noble apology of story books but Draco wished that there was someway he could look at her and know – _really_ know – that her brother's death was out of his control. He could say it was all he wanted until he almost believed it but deep down inside he would know the truth, that he was the one who muttered the curse, and he was the one who stood triumphant over her brother, that he was the one who did this to her.

Her neck was soaking with sweat and Draco mustered up all his courage and pulled the covers down to her abdomen. He looked at the quick rise and fall of her chest, her small round breasts rising with them, her nipples hard from its contact with the fabric. He admired the way her body curved, outwards first for her breasts, and inwards to her waist, outwards again to her hips. Draco wondered what it would be like to follow the curves of her body or to feel the rise and fall of her breasts while she breathed. He traced her curves with his eyes, from her abdomen to her breasts, then her fragile neck, up to her face, and that was when he noticed: she was awake.

"Er… good morning," he said awkwardly.

But she made no move to cover up, no snide remarks, or no response. She just sat there, looking at him square in the face as if she wasn't even really perceiving anything.

"Look at the time," Draco carried on the conversation by himself, "you must be starving! Of course you are. I'll go get you some breakfast, right?"

Still she said nothing, and Draco excused himself from her cell to get her something to eat wondering how on earth he would deal with her.

XX

When he opened the door to her cell with breakfast in hand the first thing he noticed was that she was not in her bed. Instinctively he dropped the platter of food and scanned the room for her. Plates crashed to the ground and food and drink spilled everywhere. Quickly he looked all around for her, and it wasn't a second later that he saw her at the door, trying as quickly as she would to exit. Draco moved like a lion. He was quick and confident and he grabbed her first by the arm, and then by the abdomen pulling her off the ground and back into the room. It all happened in slow motion for him, even her deafening screams of protest and frustration at being caught.

And then as quickly as that Draco realised the seriousness of the situation and the anger rose within him. He slammed her body down on the bed while she kicked and screamed. He did his best to hold her arms and feet down with his body, and he sat squarely on top of her, his hands on her elbows and his knees on her thighs.

"LET ME GO" She screamed, tears streaming down her face.

"SHUT UP" Draco yelled, "SHUT UP NOW."

She quietened down, afraid at having his face just inches from hers.

His voice was slow and calculated but filled with anger when he talked, "What were you doing?"

She made no reply and instead looked away.

"LOOK AT ME" Draco commanded.

She looked at him again, the tears streaming down her cheeks, still she said nothing.

"Do not play with me Weasley. Don't you EVER try to do that again, you hear me?"

She looked at him straight in the face and made no response.

"DO YOU HEAR ME?!"

Still Ginny didn't reply.

"ANSWER ME DAMMIT!"

She squirmed a little in his arms before replying, "Fuck you."

"Know your place Weasley. You're nothing here. If I say you eat, you eat. If I say you move you move. And when I tell you to stay put, you damn well better stay put or I will-"

"Take me," she told him.

"What?" he asked shocked and confused.

"Take me," she repeated. "I know you want me Draco, I saw you looking at me. Take me and then let me go."

Draco's voice was softer when he replied and his eyes darted away from her, "If I wanted you, Weasley, I would have taken you."

"No, you wouldn't," she replied with certainty. "You're not a rapist, just like you're not a murderer. You don't have it in you."

"You don't know me," he growled.

"Take me, right here. I give you permission. I saw you looking at me this morning, you want me. Here, have me. Fuck me Draco, right now. And then let me go home."

Draco's mind began to reel with thoughts. Images of her naked, her legs sprawled open, her back arched in pleasure, soft moans coming from her lips. He imagined his hands around her breasts, cupping them, his lips on her skin and her lips on his. He imagined what it would be like to be in her, to feel her insides, to push her up against him. He could feel his erection growing.

But he looked at her, as she arched her breasts towards him and he pushed at those images aside. Slowly he got off of her. Wordlessly he turned around and flicked his wand cleaning up the mess he made earlier. He moved towards the door, stopped and said, his back still towards her, "Your breakfast will be cold now, I'll go get you some more. And unless you want to be chained again you had better be seated on that bed when I come back."

He left leaving Ginny to cry in both shame and hopelessness. And when he returned she was there, sitting on the bed. They never mentioned the incident again.

XX


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

Their conversation from then on had been idle. It was like they had erased what had happened entirely from their memory but there was an undeniable awkwardness about it that told them that no matter how hard they tried, it would never completely be forgotten.

Was she right? Did Draco really want her? Was what she had seen – his eyes roaming her body – really a gesture of desire, or of mere curiosity? Was his denial a testament to his disinterest in her, or was it an act he put up to ensure his survival? If it was, should she be flattered, grateful or… happy?

Was he right? Was her ploy to seduce him just that – a ploy? Was it a desperate act to free her from misery? An uncalculated plot thought up from grief? Or was it a deep desire emerging when she thought she had nothing to lose? Was it a chance to gain something she had wanted, just when she had lost something she loved?

Those were questions they both sought the answer to, but knew they could never obtain them. They had both signed an invisible contract to never mention what had happened that day even though every moment they spent together; they both spent contemplating questions they never could have gotten the answer to.

It was a week later when Ginny was taking her daily bath, Draco sitting there reading his book, that the idle nature of their conversation was finally broken.

She was in the middle of rinsing her body with water when she stopped and looked at Draco long and hard before finally breaking the silence with a question she would have never hoped to utter in her life, "Draco, can I ask you for a favour?"

He looked up his face frowning. He fought the urge to warn her that there was no way that he would let her escape no matter what she offered him this time, but he steered clear of that remark and hoped to God that that favour was nowhere close to what had happened between them before. His response was slow, "Er… yes, sure. What do you need?"

"I, um, I was just wondering…" she trailed off. Draco's face tensed in anticipation making her wonder why he was so anxious. "Are you okay?" she asked genuinely concerned at his uneasiness.

"Me? Yeah. Of course. What were you saying?"

"It's just that, it's been really hard for me lately what with – you know. And I'm sure you want me to be as happy as possible with your life depending on it and all… Anyway, um… I just think it would be easier for me if I wasn't so idle."

"I see. And what do you need to occupy you? Some books? Games? A little death eater love?" Draco laughed for a second at his, what he thought was, clever joke until he saw the redness rise in her face, and, upon noticing her nakedness, his own turn crimson. He cleared his throat, "Right, er, what did you have in mind?"

"Well, I'm not exactly sure. Just… something to keep me occupied you know?"

He handed her a towel from beside him to keep his eyes from being glued to her body.

"I would quite like to do some work, maybe in the kitchen. I was once a very good chef."

Draco smiled, trying as hard as he could to refrain himself from laughing.

She wrapped her towel around herself and cocked her head to one side, "What? You don't think I can cook?"

He shrugged. But that wasn't why he was smiling. It wasn't because he was doubtful of her talents, or mocking her willingness to work. It was because he was actually impressed by her. He was taken aback by her optimism in times of darkness, her independence and drive to survive. Draco Malfoy actually felt an inkling of respect for the Weasley standing in front of him. Of course he would never admit it, and even though he looked at her meaningfully he shrugged nonchalantly and said, "I dunno Weasley, we'll see just how good you are I suppose. I'll talk to the Dark Lord and see what I can do. No promises and it might not be pretty. But we'll find something for you to do."

XX

She woke up from her nap when she heard the clatter of plates behind her door signalling Draco's arrival with her afternoon snack. Lazily she sat up in bed, brushing her curls back from her face. She stifled a yawn as she greeted him with what sounded like a lazy 'Hpfey.'

"Guess what," he said resting a platter on her beside table.

"Hmm?" she replied taking a sip of her orange juice.

"I found you something."

Her smile immediately brightened at the prospect of finally having something to do with her days but Draco held a hand up signalling her to wait until she heard it all, "You might not like it," he continued. "It's not cooking or anything. And you'd have to deal with death eaters."

Her look changed from an excited expectant one to an outraged, worried and scared one.

"Well they're not exactly death eaters - Yet."

"What?" He could tell from her voice that she was thoroughly confused and that made her even more scared that she was before.

"Okay. Well, with all the mess with the war going on and all, death eater families can't live out in the open anymore. They almost know who every one of us is, who our cousins are, where we buy or food from, everything. So we can't live with them, and neither can our children. We have loads of them. Children I mean. Right here in the castle, training to be death eaters. But, they also need to learn basic principles – reading, writing, mathematics, basic spells, the lot. The death eater responsible for doing that died last week. Since then everything has been on hiatus. The Dark Lord agreed you could take up the position if you wanted, seeing as you need something to do with your time, and we need someone to baby sit."

She looked at him doubtfully, "How many?"

"How many? Er… wow," Draco sighed as he raised his eyes in thought. "Well, it's hard to say really, I'd say about twenty, thirty."

"THIRTY!"

"Maybe forty…"

"FOURTY?!"

"At most fifty."

"WHAT?"

"Well they're not that bad really."

"NOT THAT BAD? There would be one me. ONE prisoner and fifty death eaters in training who have no idea of right or wrong-"

"They do – they just don't follow it," he grinned.

"That's not funny. Do you know how dangerous that could be?"

"Oh come on, they're only kids now. They're a bunch of little 9 and 10 year olds. How much harm could they do?"

"They're evil! They're like – like little you's!"

"I'm offended. Look, they're very well behaved. They're the cream of the crop. They're well behaved and disciplined. Plus, I'll talk to them for you, tell them you're part of a very important mission. They practically love me."

"No way."

He shrugged, "The Dark Lord says it's either that or nothing."

Ginny looked at him spitefully, "I'll think about it."

"Great, you start on Monday."

XX


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Ginny sat quietly on her chair; her legs folded daintily, hands on lap. On the outside she looked no more than a bit nervous, but on the inside she was filled with pure terror. Before her were more than fifty young boys and girls, staring intently. She cleared her throat, the noise almost echoing in the deathly quiet room. She offered a smile of harmlessness but it was returned with the same blank expression as before. She checked the clock on the wall. Draco had promised to be there on time, but he was now almost twenty minutes late. She secretly wondered if this was a plan. Was Voldemort's plan for her to sacrifice her to a bunch of 10 year olds? Ginny braced herself to run at the sign of any sudden movements, not much good it would do her without her wand.

Tired of the silence and bolder from the anger she felt at Draco standing her up she said firmly, "Right, let's not wait any longer from Mr Malfoy-"

"I beg your pardon?" came his cold voice from the door.

Ginny rolled her eyes at the typicality of the situation. Draco would always show up at the nick of time with his cocky attitude and act like he saved the day.

"We always wait as long as it takes for our superiors, Miss Weasley. Isn't that right class?" he said smugly as he strolled in.

"That's right Mr Malfoy."

"Good. What is it we say Albertus?"

A young blonde from the back stood up stiffly and said, "The Dark Lord is our guider and protector. Nothing can be done without his permission…" he shifted his eyes nervously to the others apparently having forgotten the rest of the answer.

A dark haired skinny girl stood immediately from the class and finished "He is the ultimate authority and will lead us to victory in times to come."

"Very good Yvonne." Draco turned his back and whispered to Ginny "See, we have our own Granger."

She smiled nervously, but the shock on her face was evident. Ginny did not believe the brainwashing they were doing to these children. In the Order you had to be 18 to even think of joining and here in some Death Eater lair they were literally _breeding_ them. Draco raised his eyebrows at her before turning around to talk to the rest of the class.

"Miss Weasley here will be teaching you Maths and English. Mrs Rowlings is unfortunately… ill after a fight last week."

A timid girl from the back raised her freckled arm in the air, "I-is she okay Mr Malfoy?"

"To tell you the truth Cygnus," he said turning his attention to her, "we're not sure. Professor Snape is doing all he can to help and hopefully she will be fine. But what did we learn about casualties?"

Cygnus took a break, trying hard not to blink while her eyes filled with tears, "Casualties are sacrifices we are bound to make for the greater good," she near whispered.

"Good, class, let me have a word with Miss Weasley here for a minute. Sit quietly, and read the chapter 4, where Miss Rowlings said you had left off. Remember, Miss Weasley is here to instruct you and any attack against her will be regarded as an attack against the Dark Lord," he half turned his back before taking a breath and adding in what Ginny could have sworn was a sympathetic tone, "Mrs Rowlings… Your mother will be fine, Cygnus. Snape is the best."

XX

"What did you get me into," she began as soon as they stepped outside the classroom.

"I quite think they're rather charming."

"Charming, you call _this_ charming?! Draco, I am _not_ helping you brainwash these poor innocent children. Do you give them a choice in anything? Or do you force them all to live by your sick rules?"

"The choice is simple: live or die. Everything we teach these kids, we teach them to survive. You lot wouldn't hesitate to kill any one of them had you the chance."

"We would _never_ hurt little children. Never."

"How can you be so sure?"

But she wasn't. As she stood her ground her mind drifted back to the day she left the order, the day when Tonks walked in with the body of a 15 year old, stricken with grief, but yet they all still kept on killing – all of them. How much worse had it gotten? Did they walk in now with bodies of 12 year olds? In a few years would these children still be alive? And for what, with all the killing that had gone, all the battles that had been fought they were no better off than they were before.

"Can't… Can't I just cook?" She near pleaded.

"Afraid not Weasley; Dark Lord's Orders. Basic English and Maths, it won't be hard. I promise."

"But I can't, I can't be apart of this."

Draco sighed, and although there was annoyance in his tone there was also a hint of understanding, "whether you like it or not, you are. There's nothing I can do. Look, start today with the chapter I've left you, should be pretty easy. Stand your ground, and you'll be fine. You're not an idiot, you can handle them."

He nodded to the direction of the classroom signalling for her to return. She turned her back and took two steps towards what would be her new occupation before remembering something that had been troubling her, "Mal- Draco."

"What is it, Weasley?"

"Well… what about that one girl, who's mum…" she couldn't finish the sentence.

"What about her?"

"Well, do you really think she should be in class? Shouldn't she be given some time out? Maybe go see her mum?"

Draco put his hands in his pockets, "I don't think that's necessary…"

"Why not?" She was outraged at his insensitivity.

He shrugged, "it builds character."

Ginny near laughed at the ridiculousness of what he had said, "Do you honestly believe that?"

"It doesn't matter what I believe, now go! And Weasley, don't you dare try to escape. I'll collect you in an hour"

She only glared as her response but went nonetheless, with her first task of duty being neither English nor Mathematics, but to excuse Cygnus immediately from class for at least a week. If she was going to do this, she would do it on her terms. For once she was determined to make a difference in the world surrounding her and she would be damned in Draco would stand in her way.

XX


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

"Hey Draco."

"Yes Adremus, what insightful comment do u intend to lay upon me today." Adremus was a tall muscular young man, with broad shoulders, a chiseled chin and dark slicked back hair. His eyes were as black as a star-less sky and his skin as white as fresh milk. He spoke in a tone filled with testosterone and he walked with an air of a soldier. He was one of the Dark Lord's best fighters and the dark side on a whole had much to thank him for. Draco hated him. He was vile and uninteresting. Nothing of the man even whispered class and every day he felt it his need to tell Draco some crass incident that had happened to him. By far, the most interesting conversation they had shared was about the Mona Lisa. That was, up until Adremus had added his reason for his appreciation for the art by saying, 'She was one sexy bitch. I mean she was a bit on the chunky side but you can tell if you took off that dress she was wearing there would be some massive tits. Those tits man – that da Vinci guy was so getting a piece of that.' Draco never showed any inclination that he enjoyed talking to the brute, in fact every comment he made was filled with sarcasm and yet, without fail, before every briefing of their mission for the night he would come up to him as if they were best mates. And every night Draco prayed that Adremus would get killed in combat, if only for the greater good of the world.

"Man, I was walking in the corridor today – you know I like to get some fresh air after my morning 'alone time' ha-ha," at that he winked. Draco grimaced. "Anyway, man, I was just minding my own business and guess what I saw."

"What did you see Adremus?"

"That red-head chick The Dark Lord put you in charge of. You've been holding out on us Draco." At that the others in the room looked to him. Little was known of Ginny, only that Draco was put in charge of her care. No one knew what for, except Draco and he must admit that he didn't even thoroughly understand the full plan.

"Is that so," Draco muttered brushing his cloak off.

"Let me tell you, what an arse. I mean she was leaning over her desk reading this book in this tight skirt and whoah. I think I'll be taking my morning walk there from now on. You must have had some of that."

"I beg your pardon?" Draco had heard exactly what he had said, and was appalled by it all. How could _he_ speak to him like that?

"Fuck man. FUCK. You must have FUCKED her," Adremus said louder thinking Draco hadn't heard.

"Don't be daft. ME touch THAT?"

"Man… she's ho-"

"She's a muggle lover, she's filth… of course I haven't!"

"Well, all I'm saying is, I would've. Just make sure she wears those skirts yeah, I might take some of the other guys with me next time, I'm sure they'll agree."

XX

When Draco walked in that morning Ginny was making her bed in preparation for work. She bent over to fluff her pillow and Draco's eyes were unwillingly drawn to her behind. Adremus was right. Her skirt was in no way inappropriate, but it fit near perfectly. It was to her knees and but it curved with her ass and the top of her thighs accentuating her womanly shape. And when she bent over it was almost like she was wearing nothing at all, the stretched fabric tensed over her bottom and made it visible from the nook of her back to the start of her thighs a perfect C shape.

"Oh Draco, morning, I didn't see you there."

He cleared his throat, "Morning, I've brought you your breakfast." He put the tray down on her table and allowed her to eat.

Ginny looked up from her meal to look at him curiously, making him aware at the fact that he was staring, "Is… is something wrong?"

"What? With me? Erm… no, of course – of course not. Well… must you dress like that?"

"Like what?"

Draco motioned his hand to her bottom half, "Those skirts. Don't you think they're a little bit inappropriate?"

"What? No. I think they're fine; look they're all the way to my knees! I've been wearing these outfits for over a week now! You never had a problem with me teaching with them before. Might I remind you Draco, _y_ou'rethe one who bought them."

"Yes… well I was unaware-"

"Unaware of what? What are you on about?" Ginny was thoroughly confused.

"Nothing. Come, I'll take you to your class."

And he did, making sure Ginny would never walk in front of him for fear of seeing her ass again. He could tell she was confused, she would look at him sometimes with a frustrated face, or a questioning one, and then with a humoured one. Draco on the other hand found no humour in the situation. He passed Adremus on the way who winked at him with an idiotic smile on his face. The cheek.

He dropped Ginny off at a classroom wishing her good luck though she hardly needed it anymore. She was excelling at her job and had found her place and gained respect among the students. Before she had completely shut the door to the classroom he found himself calling out to her, with no ability to restrain it, "and watch where you put that ass of yours." Ginny turned to him a look of pure confusion on her face and seemed to doubt that he even said it for a second before she seemingly decided that she must have heard wrong and continued on her way.

His cheeks burnt crimson and he quickly walked away but not before turning round to see her bent over her book, the material of her skirt stretched once again, and he smiled a small one before rushing off to get some more clothes from Orfice – big, baggy ones.

XX

It had become a practice for them to play cards every evening. Ginny insisted that it made her sleepier faster – he didn't believe her. But Draco had no complaints, because despite himself he enjoyed it and found himself looking forward to it every day – counting the hours when he could sit next to her and laugh and joke and tease, in a company that was neither wanting nor scheming, just pleasant.

Tonight however she was silent. While she made a few remarks, there was no sparkle in her eye, and she was hardly concentrating. She had lost five games in a row and didn't seem to care.

"Galleon for your thoughts," Draco told her.

She smiled and was quiet for a moment. "I was thinking of my dad."

"What about?"

She stared at him for awhile and sighed, "I was six, and we went into this toy shop. And I wanted this massive play house. I asked my dad for it, and he said no. Of course I cried, and cried, right there in the store. I told him I hated him and that I never got what I wanted and I'd never speak again. And he picked me up, he carried me home. As soon as we were in the door I ran upstairs and flung myself on my bed, still crying. But he wouldn't let me. He picked me up and brought me to the back yard where he was going to build a shed. He tore down what he had built up so far and he sat me down with a cup of hot cocoa while be rebuilt. But he wasn't building a shed; he was building me a play house. Just like the one in the store, with a fake chimney, and a high roof like a castle and a swing door. And when he was done he made me paint it whatever colours I wanted. Of course it was ghastly," she laughed at herself, "purple doors, green windows, red roof, pink walls, but he let me do it. And then when it was done, we sat inside with my tea cup set and pretended to have tea with my toys. And he looked at me and he said 'Ginny, we may not have a lot, but I'll always do whatever I can for you to make you happy.' I didn't really think of it then, I was just happy to have my playhouse," she looked at Draco meaningfully. "But he did, he always did his best to make us happy. It's my best memory of him."

Draco nodded and rested his head back onto her bed from his seat on the floor. He thought about what she said, and then he looked at her, "I was really nervous. Mother and I sat there while father sat with his lawyers, she held my hand nervously and I could feel her fingers tremble in between mine. The judge sat there and called for the jury to read out their sentencing. I remember the exact words 'We find Lucius Malfoy guilty of multiple accounts of murder, practicing the dark arts and being an accomplice to He-who-must-not-be-named.' And then the judge, 'Lucius Malfoy you are hereby sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban.' My mother gripped my shirt and I looked at her. I could tell she was fighting the tears in her eyes – she always made it a point never to show people her emotions. Quickly I ran up to my father before he was taken away, he turned to me his eyes as commanding as ever and he said 'it's just you and your mother now Draco, take care of her. Make the family proud.' And I watched as he was taken away," he looked at Ginny and she was surprised to find a sort of happiness in his eyes. "And I knew he could no longer hurt me, or mother. And that I could take care of her now, like she deserved to. That's my best memory of him."

He was silent then, and Ginny was amazed to see that she felt for him. She understood him. She felt the butterflies in her stomach as his grey eyes connected with hers. And she leaned forward, brushed his cheek with her hand, and she kissed him. She kissed him gently, and as she closed her eyes he felt her lashes brush against his skin and he tingled. He felt her hair brush his face, and her lips on his. He felt her hand on his neck and he smelt her scent in his nostrils. He felt the moment, right then, with her. And he kissed her back.

XX


End file.
